Burned Bridges
by Randy Taylor
Summary: In the year 2006, one of the Taylors tries to piece their life back together with the help of the Taylor family. This one will be dark, twisted, and demented because that's the mood I'm in right now. Please read and review! Rated T mainly for adult themes
1. Prologue: Let's Go Home

Burned Bridges Prologue

A/N: In this story, the Taylors are still living in Detroit. The way I'm going to write it, the entire eighth season will pretty much never have happened except for a detail here and a detail there.

Also, be sure to watch out for some adult themes in most chapters. This is going to serve as the warning for the entire story.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor

* * *

The name on the door reads "Jill Taylor M.D.". After working for several years (since the mid nineteen nineties), she finally earned her degree in psychiatry and opened up a practice in this building with three other doctors. This occurred in 2004.

Near closing time (almost 5:00) on the evening of September 9th, 2006, a man comes stumbling into the building.

The man appears young, around 25 maybe. He is dressed in a black sleeveless t-shirt and black jeans. Both of which are full of holes. His hair is dyed bright pink, although there is a noticeable amount of light brown seeping through at the bottom, towards the roots of his hair. His fingernails are longer than most men's are, and they are painted a metallic purple color. All in all, your typical gothic punk that hangs around the allies where the whores and slum work and live. Not the type of character seen in an upscale Detroit psychiatrist's office.

When the receptionist in the lobby on the main floor sees him enter, she opens her mouth as if to ask what the man is doing here, and then closes it when the man tosses her an evil look.

He stumbles/storms his way up the stairs, rather than have to risk socializing with anyone that might consider him to be in their terms "a fag" or "a goth punk" or "an embarrassment/menace to society". Not that any one of them would have the balls to actually call him these names to his face, but still, like the saying goes, it's the thought that counts.

He finally arrives to his destination, which takes a considerable amount of time in his stoned and drunken haze of confusion.

The man opens up the door, and walks into the lobby. No one else is around, which is a good sign for the man. That means there will be no one to gawk and stare at him, as if he's some sideshow freak shaped from the same type of mold as Charles Manson.

He approaches the secretary, a middle aged woman in her fifties, who nearly suffers a coronary when she looks up at the man.

'I'm here to see Dr. Taylor' the man says, speaking for the first time.

'Did you have an appointment?' inquires the secretary.

'No, I just need to see her right now' replies the man, raising his voice now and making threatening gestures at the secretary.

'A-al-alright then, let me let her know that you're here' the secretary says, the fear obvious in her shaky voice.

* * *

Jill Taylor's POV

Done with the last patient of the day. Thank God for that. I still have to be here for another 10 minutes, until everyone is officially closed, but oh well. I could use the time to rest, and to try to regain what little bit of sanity I have left. I never thought it would be like this after Brad and Mark moved out. I don't have anyone to talk to except Wilson anymore. It seems like all Tim ever does is mess with his damn hotrod. If he isn't working on it, then he's working on our other cars, or doing something, anything to avoid being around me.

Then I hear Jeanne's voice on the little intercom system all of the psychiatrists here have.

'Dr. Taylor, there is someone here to see you. He doesn't have an appointment, but says he absolutely must see you at once' Jeanne informs me.

I let out a long sigh. Oh well, I have nothing better to do in my ten spare minutes anyway.

'Send him in' I finally say, with another long sigh trailing at the end of my sentence.

And in walks a young man of no more than 25. I am admittedly shocked at his appearance, even though I have seen many people who could be categorized as "weird" over the past few years.

'Come in' I invite, after a few seconds. He obliges my request, and sits on the chair across from me.

'So, why exactly are you here?' I ask after a couple of minutes of glaring silence.

'I want your help. I was wrong 6 years ago' the man says. When I hear the voice, I get shivers up and down my spine to the point where I actually begin trembling. The voice is a scintilla deeper than it was, and sounds more hoarse, as if he doesn't talk very much, but there's no mistaking it. This is Randy. My Randy. Our Randy.

'Oh my God…Randy! What has happened to you?' I ask, still in total shock.

'I'd rather not say. Like I said, 6 years ago I made some very serious mistakes, and I know I burned some bridges then. If you don't want to help me, then I understand' Randy says.

'I'm not happy with what you did back then Randy, but there is no possible way I could live with my self if I told you that we won't help you. You can come home with me, I'm off work in a few minutes' I reply.

'That's not all I need help with. I want to go straight. I want to get into some kind of detox program, I want to get off alcohol, and I just want everything to go back to how it was before the…incident happened' says Randy.

'Whatever we can do Randy, whatever we can do to help, we will do. God, I've just missed you so much! I just want you to come back home. You don't know how many nights I've spent wondering and worrying about you, just wishing you'd come back' I say, realizing for the first time that I'm crying.

I notice Randy is crying as well.

'Come on, we can go home now' I say after a minute or so.

'Yes, let's go home' Randy nods in agreement.

I walk out of that office feeling the best I have felt in 6 years. 6 damn years.

* * *

A/N: I know the plot may seem a little weird, but it will all make sense eventually.

Just for anyone who is wondering, the title of this story is the title of a song by Eric Stuart Band.

Anyways, I hope this is good. My one biggest fear is that I'll lose my ability to write a quality fan fiction (or run out of good ideas).

Please read and review, I'm anxious to find out what everyone thinks about this.

Thank you for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	2. Chapter 1: Just Too Damn Much

Burned Bridges Chapter 1

Jill's POV

'Randy, I'm going to call your father down at the hardware store and let him know that he needs to come home early tonight' I say once we're in the car.

'Hello, Taylor Hardware, Tim speaking, how may I help you?' Tim answers.

'Tim, it's me' I greet.

'Hey Jill. What's the matter?' he asks, since he knows I don't hardly ever call him at work.

'You need to come home early tonight. Get Al to cover for you. I have a little surprise for you' I say, starting to cry once again.

'Okay, uh…I'll see what I can do, but I can't guarantee I'll be home before 7:00. We've been swamped all day, and as a matter of fact, we still are. I gotta go now. Bye' Tim says.

'Bye' I simply say. That's it as far as our phone conversations (and regular ones for that matter) go anymore. No I love you, no can't wait to see you later. It's almost like we're brother and sister.

* * *

Randy's POV

'Your dad is going to be so glad to see you' mom tells me.

'Are you sure? I mean, like this? He'll probably have a fit; that is if he even recognizes me, which I guess is kind of the purpose of all of this. Well, it was, until this is who I became' I say, giving my voice a real workout now. I haven't talked this much in one hour in years.

'Randy, no matter what clothes you may wear, or what color your hair may be, or how long your nails are, your father and I will always love you' mom tells me, letting her mothering instinct get the best of her. Not that I'm complaining. It feels good to have someone actually give a damn for a change. Too bad that wasn't the case six years ago.

'In that case, I want you and dad to meet the person I've been seeing for the past couple of years' I say.

'Well sure! We'd love to meet the girl you've been seeing' mom says with a big smile. It appears as if she wants to say more, but doesn't.

'So, what are Brad and Mark up to?' I ask, with my voice fading out towards the end of the sentence.

'Well, Brad is a soccer coach, since he hurt his knee when you was over in Costa Rica' mom begins. I flinch at the words "Costa Rica".

'And Mark is attending a prestigious film school in Oregon' she explains. I don't flinch at the word "Oregon".

'What about Dad? What ever happened to Tool Time?' I inquire.

'Tool Time ended back in 2002. Some big tool conglomerate bought out Binford, and they just up and cancelled Tool Time' she says, still sounding a little bitter about the whole ordeal.

After that, we ride in silence for a few minutes.

'How's Wilson doing?' I ask out of the blue.

'Honey, Wilson passed away from lung cancer three years ago this December' mom says, looking sadder by the minute. Note to self: Try not to dredge up old memories and don't mention dead people who you didn't know were dead.

'Oh my God. That's horrible. Who does dad go to for advice then?' I ask, perhaps toeing the line a bit closely with the last remark.

'He doesn't go to anybody anymore. Let me warn you though, your father has went through some changes of his own over the past six years' she warns.

'Really? How?' I ask, smiling at the thought of him changing like me. I mean, I'm sure he hasn't changed his appearance like I have (although I would pay a lot of money to see him with bright pink hair and black lipstick).

'Well, he's put on a good twenty pounds at the very least' she says, laughing.

The rest of the car ride passes by in silence, with some thanks going to the radio station we're listening to for playing back to back Eric Stuart songs. (I absolutely love Eric Stuart).

We walk into the same garage that I last saw six years ago. Everything looks the same, right down to an old, rusted hotrod frame in the garage.

When we walk into the actual house, I can immediately see some changes. We have new chairs, a new dinette set, and new carpeting.

'Wow, everything looks different' I say, absorbing all of both the familiar and unfamiliar scenery.

'Did dad say what time he'd be home?' I ask.

'He said it'd be around 7 or so' mom answers.

'Can I go ahead and call the person I'm seeing and have them come over around seven thirty?' I ask.

'Yeah, I can make them dinner' mom volunteers.

'Hey, I've learned how to actually cook some decent meals now that you boys are out of the house and all your father does is work at the hardware store or on that damn hotrod of his' mom says when she says the weary look on my face.

'Yeah, you're about twenty five years too late' I joke. God it feels good to be joking again. Out on the streets with the whores, scum, pimps, and just assholes in general, there's nothing to joke about.

I walk over to where the phone is…strike that; was.

'Hey mom, where's the phone at?' I ask.

'Oh, we just have the one behind the couch now' she says.

I walk over to the phone, and dial the number of Pat's cell phone.

'Yeah' answers Pat.

'Hey Pat, it's Randy. Could you come by my house around seven thirty? I want you to meet my parents' I say.

'Do they know?' asks Pat.

'No, they don't know anything about you and your past' I answer.

'Okay. I'll be there at seven thirty then' Pat replies.

* * *

7:30 PM That Evening

Randy's POV

'Mom, dad, this is Pat' I say before I open the door.

'What?!' shouts dad as soon as he sees.

'No! Absolutely not! Not my son! No way! I'll accept the fact that you want to run around looking like some punk drummer from a grunge band, but this is too much. Too damn much. I will not allow my own son to date another man!' he yells, in a tirade now.

* * *

A/N: Wow! What a shocker!

I just want to make a few things clear right now:

1. I do not believe that Jonathan Taylor Thomas is gay.

2. I do not think there is anything wrong with being homosexual or bisexual. I'm not saying that you have to feel that way to read this story, or that you can't have your opinion. This is just my opinion.

3. There will be many, many more references to homosexuality, and at times in derogatory terms, so if that kind of thing offends you, then either please don't read this, or if you do, don't flame me. I'm only using the terms for artistic purposes, not because I think they're cool or make me feel macho or some BS like that.

4. I hope I don't lose any (or at least too many) readers (for this story as well as the rest of my stories) over this chapter and its contents.

5. It is not my intention to offend anyone with this story, or any of my stories.

6. Honestly, it took a lot of balls on my part to even post this. I've spent the past three days debating over whether or not I ought to rewrite this chapter. I hope I've made the right decision not to.

So, please R&R if you want to see Jill's point of view on Randy's coming out to them.

Thanks for reading, and like I said before, if you are offended by homosexuality or references to it, then please don't flame me.

I ask you to also please not judge this story based on its references to homosexuality, judge it the way you do my other stories. (However that may be) :)

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	3. Chapter 2: Nightmare One, Continued

hurned Bridges Chapter 2

Jill's POV

'Now Tim, just calm down a minute' I say, trying to prevent a major explosion that is in the making.

'Why should I calm down a minute when my middle son is... I can't even say it!' Tim shouts.

'Excuse us' I say to Pat and Randy, while literally dragging Tim out of the room, fighting him tooth and toenail all the while.

'Tim, do you really think blowing up at Randy is going to make him change who he is?' I ask once safely inside the garage and out of Randy and Pat's earshot.

'Well what the hell am I supposed to do? Just completely welcome the idea of my son being a queer?' Tim yells.

'Will you please keep your voice down? I don't think the neighbors have quite heard you yet' I say.

'And no, I'm not saying that you have to necessary welcome the idea of Randy being gay, but you could try to have more of an open mind. Like I said, blowing up at him isn't going to change anything about him, except maybe the way he feels about you. And do you remember _**how**_he got in this situation in the first place? Remember what he did and the way both of us lost our tempers and went through the roof?' I say in a whispered shout.

'Jill, you know me. I don't have an open mind when it comes to people being fags and lesbos' Tim says.

'Don't call them that. You really should have more of an open mind, considering the fact that there's so much vacant space up there. And what's wrong with homosexuals all of a sudden? I recall how torn up you were when Janis Joplin died, and when you said that you thought that the son of a bitches who killed Matthew Shepard should be put to death the same way that he was. How is that any damn different than this?' I ask, my voice starting to get louder by the word.

'First off, Janis Joplin wasn't one hundred percent gay, and secondly, the circumstances with Matthew Shepard were different. He was killed in a cruel and vicious way' Tim argues.

'No, it's just different because Janis Joplin and Matthew Shepard weren't your kids. Now, tell me Tim, what is your real issue here?' I reason.

'Okay, if you must know, Miss Psychiatrist, I feel like I screwed up as a parent. I feel like it's my fault that he doesn't like girls. Like my genes are inferior, and what's inside them is even more inferior for spawning a...a...' he says, at a loss for words.

'A what? A human being? A breathing, red blooded, sensitive, honest, human being who loves us? Who we scared the hell out of 6 years ago?' I shout now.

'Well, when you put it that way, no! I don't understand why you aren't shocked by this' Tim says.

'You think I'm not shocked by this news? I'm extremely shocked, thank you very much! I'm just not flying off the handle, yelling, screaming, cursing, and calling them fags and queers like you are. I guess I don't do that because that's exactly the same kind of thing my father would hav done, and I always hated the way he was so Goddamn narrow minded about everything. I always swore that I would never lose my cool like he did' I shout.

'And what a fine job you did of not losing your cool six years ago' Tim sarcastically says.

'Yeah, which is all the more reason to stay calm now. If both of us start yelling at him for being his self and for simply being who he is, then he might be gone for another six years or maybe even the rest of his life. Now maybe your son living out on the cold Detroit streets doesn't bother you, but it sure as fucking hell bothers me!' I scream.

My sudden outburst both surprises and quiets Tim.

Then all of a sudden we hear a door open, then close, then the shattering of glass.

'That must be Brad, I'm going to go out there, and you will too. And if it kills you, you will be cordial and a hell of a lot more open minded to Randy and his boyfriend' I command Tim.

'Yeah, okay, but you can explain all of this to Brad' Tim says.

'Judging by the sound of that glass breaking, I think he already knows' I reply, already halfway out of the garage.

The truth about all of this is, at first I my self was a little angry and disappointed at Randy and my self for Randy being gay, but then I realized that that was just me channeling my father, and I realized how much those feelings go against everything that I believed in as a teenager, and still believe in as an adult. This will take some getting used to, but if I can't accept this fact, then I have no business what so ever being a psychiatrist.

* * *

A/N: I hope Tim and Jill's reactions were realistic for their characters. If they weren't, then oh, by the way, those two are OOC for this entire story. If they were, ignore that last sentence.

And this is the absolute last time I'll say this, but once again, I hope no one was offended by anything in this chapter.

Please R&R if you want to know what Brad's reaction will be, why he's over at the Taylor house, and what shattered.

Thanks for reading.

Oh, and for the record, I completely agree with this line:

_"...and when you said that you thought that the son of a bitches who killed Matthew Shepard should be put to death the same way that he was."_

Yours truly, Randy "Please be open minded people!" Taylor


	4. Chapter 3: Let's Take it to the Garage

Burned Bridges Chapter 3

Jill's POV

'Hi Brad! I'm sorry, I would've called to tell you about Randy, but I knew you had practice until 6:30 tonight' I say, grabbing a roll of paper towels, the broom, and dustpan on my way over to the door way.

'Th-that's actually not what surprised me, mom' Brad says with a petrified look on his face.

'I just don't know what to say' he adds, tossing a glance Randy and Pat's direction.

'Well, that's a lot better than being like your father' I mumble under my breath as I kneel down to clean up the remains of what once was a fine bottle of chardonnay.

'What's that?' Brad asks.

'I said "I think I should have let the oven get hotter. You know, before I put the vegetarian lasagna in there. The cheese is just kind of partially melted" I say, thanking God for letting me come up with such a quick save.

'Uh...mom, could I talk to you in the garage?' Brad and Randy both ask at the same time. They look at each other, then me, then each other again, and finally back to me, awaiting my answer.

'Yeah, Randy, I'll talk to you first' I say, even though I probably should know better than to leave Brad out there with my anti-homo husband.

'Dad doesn't like the fact I'm gay' Randy says as soon as we enter the garage.

'N-Well, it's...just a bit of a shock to him. He'll come around though' I say, silently cursing Tim for stranding me with all of the hard parenting discussions.

'Mom, I heard him call me a queer, and talking about "fags and lesbos"' Randy says.

'Well what were you doing, standing right outside the garage door?' I ask accusingly.

'Mom, I think the whole neighborhood knows by now that I'm gay the way you two were carrying on' Randy says.

'What does he think, I'm doing this to get back at him, or that I'm doing this to try to undermine everything he ever taught me or believed in? Because I'm not. This is just who I am' Randy adds.

'Randy, he just comes from the whole school of thought that if you're gay, you're going to hell, and that being gay is a decision for someone to make' I explain.

'But it's not! It's something that you're born with. It's something that God has planned for you. It's not like I can choose to be who I am. If I could, don't you'd think I'd be living the life everyone, my self included, always pictured me living? Some big shot for a gigantic, earth friendly conglomerate, living in the suburbs with two kids and a cat and a wife and three cars and a nice house and just living life to its fullest extent instead of some gothic punk looking slum fag off the street who hasn't even had a decent night's sleep since before Lauren and I...' Randy trails off.

'Now don't call yourself a fag. I mean, remember, the original definition of the word "faggot" was a pile of sticks used as firewood, and you are not a stick' I say.

'And as far as what you said goes, I completely agree with you. But, once again, you know the school of thought that your father is from' I remind him.

'Yeah, and unfortunately it's not an Ivy League school' Randy jokes.

'Okay, you go wait out there, and send Brad in. I think he deserves to get the real story, as opposed to the one your father will conjure up' I tell Randy.

'Alright' he says on his way out.

God this is going to be difficult. I mean, how do you tell your oldest son that your middle son, his younger brother, is gay. I mean, these two have shared a room, a bathroom. Good Lord! They've even taken baths together before. (They were really little but that's beside the point).

'So what's up with that other guy out there?' Brad asks as soon as he gets to the garage. God, is this place that much of a safe haven for these boys?

'Brad, that other guy out there is Randy's signifcant other' I say, not wanting to just burst out and say "Brad, your brother's gay", but wishing that I could.

'So Randy's...' he stops mid-sentence after he judges my facial reaction.

'Yes, Randy is' I say, waiting for an explosion of some sort.

Yet, nothing comes. Wow! Teaching really has made Brad much more easy going. I always wondered what it'd take.

'What's up with Randy being here anyways? I thought you and dad said you was sure he was dead someplace out on the streets' Brad asks.

'Your father said that, and he was wrong, just like I told him he would be. Come on, let's go back into the house, and Randy and I will fill you in on what I know. I don't know about you, but I'm sure curious to hear about what he's been up to over the past six years' I say.

'Yeah, well I'm curious **who** he's been up **in** the last six years' Brad mumbles on his way out.

* * *

A/N: Sorry, I promise next chapter will be more exciting. I'm just too tired to keep writing right now, and I think this is a good place to stop anyways**.**

Please R&R. I appreciate getting reviews, especially for stories like this, that way I know someone is actually reading the flipping things.

Thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy "Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawn" Taylor


	5. Chapter 4: He's Not MY Son

Burned Bridges Chapter 4

Jill's POV

'So, let's eat!' I announce once Brad and I walk back into the house from the garage.

'What's for dinner?' Randy asks.

'Vegetarian lasagna' I answer, setting the table.

'It's funny, because that's actually my favorite dish' Pat says, speaking for the first time tonight. His voice trembles a little bit with fear, but who wouldn't be afraid after Tim's blowup?

'So then, are you a vegetarian too?' I ask him, trying to open the lines of communication.

'No, I just don't like beef' Pat says. So much for my little plan. Well, maybe if I give him more time, if we can both get to know each other better...

'So, Brad, what have you been up to lately?' Randy asks after a few minutes, completely out of the blue.

'Well, when you was in...when you was on that school trip, I hurt my knee, and then eventually reinjured it, so playing soccer was obviously out of the question. So I went on to become a soccer coach for Wayne State' Brad says, trying his hardest to avoid saying "Costa Rica".

'I never really pictured your career having anything to do with the world of academia growing up, but somehow, I think that's the best possible job you could've gotten' Randy says, chuckling a little at the thought of Brad as a teacher. This leads to a few moments of glaring silence.

'Who's living in Wilson's house now?' Randy asks, if nothing else just to break the silence.

'Willow is, kind of off and on. Whenever she comes to town from Milwaukee, which is about twice a month, she stays there. Whenever she isn't there, your dad uses it sort of as a second workshop' I answer.

Everyone is silent for about ten more minutes.

'Jill, could I speak with you in the garage for a moment?' Tim says, not all that loudly, but it sounds like he's yelling into a megaphone after the long period of silence.

'What're you doing? You could at least try to make conversation' Tim asks.

'Now let's not start yelling again. I've been trying to make conversation, but it's a little hard to do when your son who has been missing for six years shows up. It's a little shocking' I say.

'Wait one minute! He's my son too, you know' Tim points out.

'Really? I thought you disowned him after you found out what happened because of Lauren' I remind him. This garners me a glare that a Cobra couldn't pull off.

'I'm trying out there, but I'm in just as much shock as you are' Tim says.

'Then why is it that I've answered all of the questions, and all you've said is "please pass the bread"?' I ask. There's no response to this.

'Now come on. Just make it through the rest of dinner. It's the least you can do for your middle son, or is he back to not being your son already?' I command.

'He is my son, but he's not _my_ son' Tim says, so low that it's barely audible.

'Sorry, we just realized that we had to try to figure out a place for you to sleep, Randy' I say with a big, fake, smile once Tim and I get settled in again at the table.

'About that, I was going to ask if I could have the basement, just so it'll be like old times' Randy says, with a questioning look.

'That's what your father and I thought you'd like the best' I say, throwing a look in Tim's direction.

The rest of dinner passes in the same awkward, glaring silence that occupied it so much earlier.

'Well, I need to get going. I have some order forms that need to be filled out' Brad says after dessert and a cup of coffee.

'Okay, well, we'll see you tomorrow night then' I say out of habit.

'No, remember mom? I have that date with Tara tomorrow night' Brad reminds me.

'Who is Tara?' Randy asks.

'She's my girlfriend' Brad answers.

'What happened to Samantha?' Randy asks.

'Things just didn't quite work out between us' Brad answers, trying to avoid that subject. (Not that I blame him, after that lying little bitch cheated on him and had the nerve to say that he was doing things behind her back).

'I guess I'd better get going' Pat says a few minutes after Brad leaves.

'Okay. I'll see you soon. Bye' Randy says.

Then I see something that made me cringe, and made me want to cry. Right there at the door, that door step that everyone had used so much, Randy and Pat kissed each other goodbye. On the lips.

A/N: I told you this chapter would be more exciting. Or if nothing else, more lively.

I promise we'll get on past this first night in the next chapter. Hey, it only took me five chapters (counting the prologue).

Please R&R if you want more chapters.

Thank you for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	6. Chapter 5: A Day at the Mall

Burned Bridges Chapter 5

Randy's POV

Last night was the first night that I slept decently in years.

This morning, I took probably the longest shower I've ever taken.

Right now, I'm sitting at the table with dad while mom is fixing silver dollar pancakes.

'So, Randy, did you have any plans for today? I decided to take the day off, so we can do whatever you want' mom says when she carries the platter on which the pancakes are strategically stacked into the dining room.

'I don't know. I haven't really planned a day in advance in over six years. I know I'd like to do something about the hair and the nail polish. And maybe see about getting some decent clothes' I say, motioning to each part of my body that I referenced.

'Alright. We can get started after breakfast. I have some nail polish remover upstairs. I always keep some on hand incase your father glues something to himself' she says, smiling at dad.

Yep, by the way everyone is acting this morning, you'd never know that everything last night took place.

'Is something wrong mom?' I ask her as she's fixing everyone's breakfast.

'No, why do you ask?' she asks.

'You're giving me an Eiffel Tower of pancakes' I point out.

'Oh, sorry. I just kind of got lost in my thoughts' she says, placing some of the pancakes back on the green platter she's holding.

'But, Randy, are you sure you want to go clothes shopping with me?' mom asks after she's fixed her own plate and sat down.

'Just so long as you don't try to jiggle my pants' I smile.

'Okay, I won't jiggle' she promises.

'So, did you sleep well Randy?' dad asks, speaking to me for the first time this morning.

'The best I have in years' I reply.

'That's good. I do have to go in and open up the hardware store, but then I can come back home and spend the day with you two' he says.

'Okay. We can wait until then to go shopping' mom says.

The rest of breakfast passes in silence except for the occasional request to pass the butter or syrup.

* * *

Later at the Mall

'Where do you want to go first Randy?' dad asks, driving around in the mall parking lot.

'Before we do anything else, I want to get something to wash this pink out of my hair' I say.

'Why don't we just go to Target? I know you used to like to go there to buy clothes' mom suggests.

'Works for me' I say when dad turns around and looks at me. He then does a u-turn and drives to the entrance closest to Target.

'You all get out here, and I'll find a place to park' he says.

Mom and I go ahead and enter the store. Luckily since it's a quarter to ten on a week day, not too many people are inside.

We wait for dad, and then grab a cart and begin roaming aisles.

I sent a little kid screaming and crying when we walked down the hair care product aisle, which made me feel bad.

'It's things like that that made me decide to change back to who I was' I say after that happens.

Needless to say, I tried to pick up the pace from there on out.

After picking up things like shampoo and toothpaste, we headed over to the clothes section. There I wound up getting five new shirts, and five pairs of jeans. (None of which were black, purple, or pink).

After that we paid for everything, and decided that we would go home so I could change clothes and get my hair back to its normal color, then we'd come back and just walk around the mall for a while.

We're standing maybe 25 feet from the mall exit when some sort of siren goes off. A voice comes over the PA system and announces that the mall is going into a lockdown and everyone needs to seek safety immediately.

* * *

A/N: I hope this chapter wasn't too boring. (I'm obviously not referring to the last paragraph here). If it was, well then, you know the next one won't be.

I'm not sure why exactly I threw that last part in there. I just needed somethingto finish off the chapter with, and that just came to me, so...

Anyways, please read and review so you can find out what's up with the sirens and the lockdown.

Thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	7. Chapter 6: Lockdown

Burned Bridges Chapter 6

Randy's POV

'I wonder what's going on?' I ask as mom, dad, and I duck into the only still open store that's nearby, a Pier 1 Imports.

'Come on, get to the back room' instructs a store employee. We do as she says.

'Do you know what's going on?' I ask once we reach the safety of the store room.

'I think somebody shot somebody. I heard something that sounded like gunfire a couple of minutes before the lock down was called' the woman explains.

The next couple of minutes pass in silence. Then we can hear a noise coming from outside. Then shouting. 'Help! Let us in! We can't find any place else to hide!' the voices are saying.

The clerk, whose name tag reads "Michelle M.", starts to open the door.

'Wait! What if it's just a trick or something?' mom whispers.

'But what if it isn't a trick?' Michelle M. asks.

'Good point' mom mumbles.

When Michelle opens the door, the three of us crouch down behind some boxes, since we would be visible just standing there.

'Alright, gimme all the money you got in those cash registers there!' shouts one of the previously heard voices a few moments after Michelle exited the store room.

'I **knew **it was a trick' mom whispers to no one in particular.

'This is the only one I can get into. The others need different keys, and since I don't work at them, I don't have the key' Michelle explains.

'Then let me back there, and I'll shoot the locks' one of the men says. I peer out from around the boxes, and see one of the men start to jump the counter.

'No numbskull, a whole bunch of gunfire will only tip off the cops to our location' the other man says.

'Oh my God' I think, then say.

'What, what's the matter?' dad asks.

'I know the one who was just talking. He's a career thief. He's been in and out of jail or the equivalent since he was thirteen' I explain.

I back up a little further behind the boxes, and in the process run into a box. It sounds like something glass shattered in the box. Damn, I hope the two men didn't hear that.

'Hey, who's back there, huh? Come on out. Get the hell out here' the one I know, Ricky, yells.

'You two stay here, let me go out there' I say, already halfway out before mom and dad could object.

'Hey Ricky, they actually let you out this time?' I say as I come out into the open.

'Get your hands up!' Ricky orders.

'Yeah, sure. I'm not carrying anything, don't do that gig anymore' I tell him.

'Well if it isn't Randy. This is great. We can get rich and get revenge on mister queer eye for the fag guy all at the same time. Think we could have fun with a couple of them cop bitches while we're at it?' Ricky says.

'You haven't changed a bit. Not that I expected you to. You still only care about money, my supposed imminent death, and sex sex sex, which is how you got the name "numb nut" if I recall correctly' I tell him.

'Leave my nuts out of this, just come out here and be a good little hostage when those bastards in blue arrive' Ricky says.

'If only it were that simple, you see? But I don't take orders from you. So I'm afraid that if you want me to play a part in your little bit of theater, you're going to have to come behind this counter and make me your hostage' I taunt. Michelle looks at me like I've lost my mind, but I just toss her a reassuring look. See, I'm only biding for time until the cops can get down here, or until Ricky loses it and fires a warning shot at me, and tips the cops off. He would never actually just flat out shoot me. He'd want to torture me first and make me go through his version of hell on earth.

'You just try spouting off like that again, I'll shoot you. I might miss the first time, but the second time will be a definite hit' Ricky threatens.

'Go ahead. Please, go ahead and fire your little warning shot. For all I care, you can fire two, three, ten, or twenty times, assuming you have that many bullets. Well, of course, I'm making the assumption right there that you even have any bullets left in that gun. I mean, you already shot over five people' I say.

'How do you know I shot over five people?' Ricky asks.

'Because, you just told me. You know, maybe you're the numb skull here, and not Mr. Sunshine over there' I say.

'So, I got two bullets left, and that's all I need to finish your fucking pathetic life off' Ricky says. In all of his rage, he doesn't hear the distant army of footsteps that I do.

'And you think you can actually hit me? You couldn't hit the broad side of a barn' I say. The footsteps are growing closer.

'Besides, you couldn't even get your little water gun there raised right now' I tell him. Police are starting to arrive on the scene.

'And why the good Goddamn hell is that?' Ricky asks.

'Because, you'd be dead meat before you could even finger the trigger, via some of according to you and I quote "Detroit's bastards in blue". At this, Ricky and the man with him turn around and face the legion of security guards and police officers.

'Drop your weapons and put your hands in the air!' commands one of the officers towards the front. Ricky and his friend drop their guns, which seems like an unusually easy surrender when it comes to Ricky, but then again, I guess when you're surrounded by over fifty cops and there's no way out short of a huge meteor crashing into this mall or the planet earth coming to a sudden stop and killing eveyone when they get thrown forward with a tremendous amount of force, you wouldn't put up too much of a fight.

They then allow themselves to be cuffed and hauled away. A couple of minutes later, the lock down is called off, and everyone, mom, dad, and myself included, are allowed to continue on with our lives.

* * *

A/N: See, I really do think the police are a great organization, despite the way it may seem in my other stories. (Namely Randy's Thoughts and basically any point in time when it's Jonathan T. Weiss' POV in Nine Months of Hell).

I can guarantee everybody that this won't be the last time that Randy's past will come back to haunt him and others.

Please R&R, that way, if you think there is something I could do to make the story better, you can let me know, and I can use the idea if I like it.

Just for the record, I couldn't disagree with this line any more, which is why I have the "macho" jerk in this chapter saying it: _Think we could have fun with a couple of them cop bitches while we're at it?_

I think that the only called for use of the word "bitch" is when you're referring to a female dog, and I find it to be a little rude in that context as well. But, anyways, I'll step down off my little soap box now, and get on with this author's note.

Thanks for reading, and thanks in advance for reviewing.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	8. Chapter 7: A Phone Call and a Fire

Burned Bridges Chapter 7

Randy's POV

'How do you know that guy, Randy?' mom asks once we all get to the car.

'Uh...Well...Um...' I say since I'm not really sure what to say. The truth is, Ricky and I have had our share of showdowns, though only twice (counting today) were in person. The rest of the time, it was our two gangs going at it. I hesitate to tell this, or anything about my time on the streets to mom or dad, seeing as how it would only cause them to feel even more guilty than they already do about overreacting about what happened when Vinny McGurn-

'Randy! Did you hear me? I said you don't have to say if you don't want to' mom says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

'Okay' I say. The rest of the car ride home passes in the awkward silence this family has become familiar with over the past two days. I try to think of something, anything to say, but come up with nothing.

Once we get home, I begin the process of re-humanizing myself, so to speak. First I wash all of the pink out of my hair, which takes quite a while to do. Then I put on some of my new, hole free clothes, and throw the old ones out.

Then I come back downstairs to see mom on the phone, crying. I stay behind her, and eavesdrop on the conversation.

'Yes, we'll get there as soon as we can' is all she says before hanging up. I quickly sneak half way up the stairs, and pretend to be coming down, acting as if everything was right in the world.

'Randy, do you know where your dad's at?' mom asks, trying to dry her eyes.

'Yeah, he's trying to clean the gutters out with the Binford 6100 Leaf Blaster' I tell her.

'Um...Okay, go outside and tell him to come in quick. The apartment building Mark was staying at in Oregon caught on fire. Mark is in pretty bad condition. We'll have to leave on the first plane out of here' she says.

'Okay' I say, running towards the doors.

'Hey dad! You need to come in, Mark was in a fire and we have to leave to go to Oregon' I shout up in the general direction of the roof.

'Is he alright?' dad shouts back down, already on his way down with the Leaf Blaster.

'No, he's not doing too good' I say.

'Mom says we'll leave on the first plane out of here' I tell him.

'I'll be in in a minute to help pack. Has she called Brad yet?' dad says.

'I don't know. I'll go ask' I say, running inside this time.

'Have you called Brad yet?' I ask as soon as I get through the doors.

'Yes, I'm getting ready to call the airport now' mom explains.

I head upstairs to start packing, then come back downstairs when I remember that I have no suitcase or duffel bag or anything like that. When I see dad, I ask him if I could borrow a suitcase.

* * *

Third Person POV

In all of the haste of preparing for going to Oregon, Randy never once thinks about the significance of the fire, and who all was involved in it.

* * *

A/N: I think next chapter you'll start to understand why this story is called Burned Bridges. But when you think you understand, you will be so totally wrong. Anyways, enough of contradicting myself. (For now, at least).

Oh, and by the way, hurting Mark wasn't in my original plans, but I think this little addition should work out nicely.

Please R&R.

Thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	9. Chapter 8: Boxed In

Burned Bridges Chapter 8

Randy's POV

Mom, dad, and I are in Oregon now, and we're on our way to the hospital where Mark is. Mom got another call just after we got to the airport. Apparently Mark is doing worse than what he was before, so they had to go on and take him up to surgery. I'm not sure what kind of surgery it is though. (Mom didn't say, and I didn't feel right asking. I'll just ask the doctor at the hospital).

Brad is flying out early tomorrow morning, since he's stuck in Northern Michigan with the soccer team, and can't leave to come home until eight tonight. It must suck being a coach sometimes.

I just hope Mark will be alright. More than anything, I hope he won't overreact when he sees me there. Last I knew, my name was still synonymous with dead meat as far as he was concerned.

Just as we get to the hospital, it begins raining cats and dogs. Dad drops mom and I off at the front, then goes to park the car. A few minutes later, he returns, looking like a drowned sewer rat wearing a trench coat. (Hey, you never know, it could have happened on The X Files).

We stop and ask for directions to the waiting room for surgery patients at the front desk. As soon as the elderly lady gives us the directions, we're off again, going up the stairs two at a time. Finally we make it to the third floor. There we see a woman waiting right by the receptionist's desk, holding a styrofoam cup containing some sort of liquid. (I'm assuming coffee).

'Hi, are you all the Taylors?' the woman asks when she sees us come walking in.

'Yes' mom, dad, and I all say at the same time.

'I'm Dr. Mangieri, the doctor who treated Mark down in the emergency ward' she introduces herself.

'What kind of surgery is he having done?' mom asks.

'The burns were so severe that he has to have skin grafts done on multiple parts of his body, including his legs, abdomen, and chest' explains Dr. Mangieri.

'But don't you need to have some place to get the skin from for a skin graft?' I ask. What can I say, I used to watch ER a lot. I wonder if that's even still on now.

'We generally prefer to use the patient's own skin in a skin graft, but in some cases, such as with Mark, we have to use skin from other people. It's basically the same type of thing as using a blood donor's blood on someone who needs a transfusion' she tells me.

'Do you know when he'll be out of surgery?' dad asks.

'It'll be a few hours' responds Dr. Mangieri.

'Was there anything else wrong with him, or was it just the burns?' mom asks.

'He had some minor smoke inhalation' Dr. Mangieri says.

'That doesn't make sense. He only had minor smoke inhalation, but he had burns bad enough that they have to perform multiple skin grafts? It just doesn't all add up' I say.

'Fires can be very strange things' is all Dr. Mangieri says.

After Dr. Mangieri leaves, mom and dad sit down, and I head for the restroom.

When I enter the room, it's empty, but I hear the door open and then close while I'm doing my business. Then I hear what sounds like someone banging on the door of the stall.

'Someone's in here' I say, trying not to be rude. The knocker doesn't reply, but just keeps knocking. Maybe he's deaf or has real bad hearing. Hey, I've got to give the guy the benefit of the doubt.

After a couple minutes of this, I can see some kind of object being pushed through the small hole all of the knocking has created on the old, wooden stall door. Then all of a sudden, I'm staring down the blade of one of those Samurai Knives that's over a foot long.

I pull my pants back up, which is rather hard to do when you have only five inches to move, otherwise you'll get poked in the eye.

By this point, I think I've figured out what's going on. The fire was just a scheme by Zoran, a third major gang boss from Detroit, who now lives in Oregon. She knew that I would come out here with my family, and she could trap me, and accomplish one of her main goals in life. That would, of course, be killing me. I wish I would have thought of this sooner, but I guess it's a little too late for wishing.

I start trying to think of a way to get out of here, when all of a sudden, two more knives appear on either side of me. I'm boxed in now, with no way out without cutting off something.

Damn Zoran is smart. I just wonder which of her three goons she's sent after me, and what their excuse is for being in the hospital.

* * *

A/N: Things are looking pretty bleak for Randy.

I'll say this much: There is one way out of this for Randy, but I'd be willing to bet no one will guess it. If you think you know of the way, then go ahead and guess. If you get it right, then I'll send you a PM, swearing you to secrecy until I update again.

Oh, and that reminds me, the only reason you all get two updates in two days is because of a deal I made with Baxxie. She said that if I updated this story, she'd update Split Personalities. I'd be a fool not to accept that kind of offer.

You'll have to R&R to see if Randy is as smart as I am when it comes to escape plans.

Thaks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	10. Chapter 9: This Dude's Insane!

Burned Bridges Chapter 9

"This Dude's Insane!"

Randy's POV

While I'm trying to devise a plan to get myself out of this bathroom stall, my mind starts to wander and think about Zoran.

I can remember when we first met over in Costa Rica. Of course back then she wasn't gang boss Zoran, she was high school sophomore Shelly Meldrick.

'So, which three losers did Shelly send over to try to scare me?' I ask, still trying to bide my time.

'Does it matter? It's quite obviously worked' the one to my right says. I recognize the voice instantly. It belongs to Torii, the number two in line after Zoran.

'Yeah, right, in your wettest dream it worked' I taunt.

'If I was you Taylor, I'd watch remarks like that' another voice, Riley, threatens, while shoving his knife a little further into the stall door. This is getting desperate now.

'So, we have Riley and Torii here, my guess is that Zoran wouldn't send out her three top people to finish me off. That would of course mean that person number three has to be either Ian, Tama, or Brent. Am I right? Any of them? Huh? Tell me I'm right' I say, still looking around, trying to figure out some way to get out.

'How many times do I gotta tell you, it's not Brent, it's Brant?' the voice on my left says.

'Brent, Brant, what's the difference? You'll still never amount to anything more than a pawn to Zoran' I say.

'Real big talk for someone who can't even get himself past a few butter knives, don't you think so boys?' Riley says in his Australian accent.

'If these are butter knives, I'd hate to see your idea of chainsaws' I remark. 'And besides, I already have a perfectly good plan to get out of here'. That last statement is a lie.

I still keep looking around, hoping for something, anything, to jump out at me as an escape option. But all I see is three rolls of toilet paper. Then it hits me.

I immediately reach into my back pocket and pull out a blue cigarette lighter, the real cheap kind you can get at any retail store. I never actually smoked, since I preferred some of the harder drugs when I was a gang boss, but over in Costa Rica, I made friends with a boy, Andre, who did. The night that the incident happened, I grabbed this lighter from him on the way out. I never saw him use it, but it still just kind of reminds me of him. I haven't spent a day without it since the night of May 25, 1999.

I grab the first roll of toilet paper, and set it down on the ground on my right side. I then proceed to do the same with the second, and then the third. Then, I set fire to each roll I lined up. Soon, the rolls are engulfed in flames, and smoke is floating up to the ceiling.

'Do we have you so nervous you have to take a cig break Taylor?' asks Torii.

'Nope, I'm just working on my plan' I smile.

Before too much smoke fills the room, I take off my jacket. This will serve two purposes. One, it can cover my face, so I won't choke on the smoke. (Even though it isn't a large amount of smoke). Two, it will keep me dry when the fire extenguisher system goes off after the smoke detectors detect the smoke from the rolls of toilet paper that I lit on fire. Then, if all goes according to my plans, Zoran's wannabe goons will run for safety, screaming "Fire! Fire!", I can slip under one of the stall doors, and exit myself, even if they leave the knives still planted in the stall walls and door. If Torii, Riley, and Brent/Brant, don't leave, then I'm screwed. Well, no, maybe not. After all, the fire department would be alerted, and they would have to search for the source of the fire, thus finding me in the process, and, let's face it, who is the fire department more apt to believe, me, or three known Oregon criminals?

Yes! Now I can hear the fire alarm going off.

'What the hell are you doing in there, singing hippie music and swaying with your lighter? You need stop, people are going to think there's a fire!' shouts Brent.

'Well then people would be thinking right, dumbass. Look down on your left side and you can see what I mean' I shout back. The water should start pouring down any minute now.

'Shit! This dude's insane! He just lit three rolls of toilet paper on fire! Riley, Torii, you two can stay here if you want, but I'm getting the hell out of here!' Brant announces. Just then, water starts coming from the fire extenguishers installed in the ceiling.

I can hear three sets of feet slipping and sliding on their way out the bathroom door after a few moments. They leave their knives behind, so I'm forced to slide out the front of the stall so I can make my escape. I run out to the waiting room where mom and dad are at. There I see doctors busy tending to patients. I run back through the door, and shock the doctors and nurses in the process.

'There's nothing to worry about, some thugs just set some toilet paper rolls on fire in the bathroom. I saw them do it' I announce.

'Okay, we'll tell that to the fire department when they get here. For now, you'll need to join everyone else outside' the charge nurse tells me. I obey her instructions, and run down the stairs two at a time, then begin searching for mom and dad once outside. After a couple of minutes, I find them.

'What's going on Randy?' mom asks.

'Someone set fire to some rolls of toilet paper in the bathroom. I saw the rolls myself. There's no real worry or anything' I explain.

'What about Mark? Where would he go?' mom asks. Dad shrugs his shoulders at this.

'I'm sure he's doing fine. They're probably still operating on him. You know, the OR is generally a controlled environment' I assure mom.

'Yeah, I suppose so' mom says.

This is getting really dangerous. It seems like everywhere I go, I attract trouble. First Ricky and his friends, now Zoran and her group. I really hate to think what will happen if I ever have a run in like Vinny McGurn and Andre did over in Costa Rica. I hate to think someone else could wind up being the second Lauren. It's definitely no role that would win someone an Emmy.

* * *

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this, because this is the last little secret about what happened in Costa Rica that I'm going to give out for at least a couple of chapters. Like I've said before, I won't reveal what actually happened until the very end of the story.

I hope my (Randy's) escape trick was believable, even if it is a little reminiscent of Mission Impossible and/or MacGyver.

Please R&R to see where I'm going to take the story from here. (And as of right now, I'm not sure where that will be).

Thanks for reading.

Oh, and by the way, the reason I'm updating all my stories today is because I have to have yet another surgery done on my nose. This is supposed to be the final one though.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	11. Chapter 10: Burned Bridges

Burned Bridges Chapter 10

"Burned Bridges"

Randy's POV

Right now I'm being interrogated by the fire chief about the fire in the bathroom. Obviously I have to deny starting the fire.

'So do you know the name of the person who started this fire?' the fire chief asks me.

'Yes, it was Torii McDonald. He's…' I start to say "He's part of Zoran's gang, but then stop. After all, I'm from Detroit, Michigan. How the hell do I know Zoran and her gang and all her doings?

'He's what?' Chief Mike Johnson asks. I was hoping he wouldn't catch that last part.

'He's probably done something like this before' I say, telling a partial lie.

'Excuse me, chief. We found a couple things of interest in the restroom. For one, there was three knives stabbed into the stall right to the left of where the fire was started. But we also found this' one of the firemen says. I look at the object he was talking about.

Son of a bitch.

He's holding Andre's blue cigarette lighter. It must've fallen out of my pocket when I made my escape. Then I realize that I must have a look of horror on my face. I try to readjust to a casual look as quick as possible.

'Get it and the knives over to the crime lab for prints' Chief Johnson instructs.

'Well, I guess that's all for now. If we need anything else, we'll track you down' the chief tells me. I get up, and walk over to where mom and dad are waiting for me.

'What's the matter Randy? You look like you saw a ghost over there' mom asks.

'I don't know. I just kind of have this funny feeling right now. I just can't help but think I'm somehow related to all these fires started lately' I say.

'Oh, you're probably just nervous about seeing Mark. He did take what you did really hard. Speaking of which, he's out of surgery now, and we can go see him in about an hour's time' mom says.

* * *

An Hour and a Half Later

Randy's POV

Mark's doing better apparently. Right now a nurse is trying to wake him up.

'Mom, dad, I'm going to go wait out of sight, and I'll let you tell Mark that I'm here. I don't want to upset him anymore than what I probably will' I say. They just nod their heads. I wonder if they even comprehended what I just said. Not that I blame them. I'm worried about Mark too. I take a few steps around a corner of the hospital room, and stand flat up against the wall.

'Mark, sweetie, how do you feel?' mom asks. I don't hear a reply, so I sneak a glance over in that general direction, and see Mark shrug, or at least attempt to.

'We have a bit of a surprise for you Mark. We was going to call you and let you know, but we didn't get the chance to before all this happened. A few days ago, Randy showed up at your mom's office' dad explains. At my name, Mark's eyes snap wide open, and I can see that he still has the fire inside about what happened after all these years. I figure that this is as good a time as any to make my presence known to Mark.

As soon as I step out into the open, Mark gets wide eyed and starts motioning for me to leave.

'Get away from me. I don't want to see you' Mark struggles to say, but nonetheless says.

'Now Mark, your brother has been a nervous wreck about you just like your father and I have been. You could at least give him the chance to apologize' mom scolds.

'Why would he apologize? Have you forgotten who you're talking about?' Mark asks.

'Mom, dad, could you two step outside for a minute? I want to say something to Mark in private. It'll only take a minute or so' I say. Mark has a bewildered look on his face, but says nothing.

'Calm down, it's not like I'm going to kill you. Listen Mark, there's no excuse for what happened, and I don't by any means expect an apology to simply make things better between us. But the reason I'm here is because I seriously fucked up seven years ago. There's no denying that' I say.

'Yeah, and it's your fault I'm here. But you already know that, and I don't want you to ever forget' Mark whispers.

'Yes, it is my fault you're here right now. Zoran, or you'd know her by the name Shelly, did this to lure me out here and kill me' I explain.

'Damn. She obviously hasn't succeeded yet' Mark comments.

'Could you just explain one thing to me? Before the fire started, the person who was in my apartment said "this is all because of your fag brother". Does that mean what I think it means Randy?' he asks, using my name for the first time in several years.

'I don't know what you're thinking, but my guess would be yes' I answer.

'So that's why…that's why you did all that you did when we were kids' Mark says, making me sound like a pedophile. (Which, for the record, I am not).

'Honestly, I don't know. May-' I get cut off.

'That's bullshit. It is or it isn't why. You do know something' he says.

'Maybe some of those things were…not enjoyable or satisfactory or any kind of word like that, but maybe like the meaning of those words. These feelings didn't really surface until after Costa Rica. It's definitely who I am, it's not something that happens over time. Maybe we all are a little homosexual, and it just lays dormant in most people, or if it doesn't, they just never let on about it.' I say, struggling to find the right words.

'Enough of your "maybes" and "I don't knows"' Mark says.

'What, if I say that yes, yes that's why I bullied you and that I enjoyed every second of being around you in a non-brotherly manner, then things will be automatically healed over between us? I'm not going to sit here and lie Mark. All I can say is that if- No, let me put this in definitive terms. All I can say is that before Costa Rica, I never thought once about me being gay. I don't know if Lauren or Zoran or Andre or the whole damn thing did this to me, but something happened over in Costa Rica that changed much more of me than just the surface. It changed the very being of who I am. And believe me, there are mornings when I wake up and can't stand the person I've become. You want to know why I came home? This is why' I say. I lift up my shirt at the end of spiel, and there on my stomach is a small red cut.

'What's that?' Mark asks, knowing good and well what it is, but wanting me to confess to him.

'It's a scar from when I started to cut my stomach so I could kill myself. I hit something more than my stomach when I tried to do this. As soon as the knife got this far, I stopped. I knew that there was only one road back to redemption for me, and it certainly didn't involve a knife stolen from the local steakhouse me and my gang terrorized constantly. That's why that night I went to see mom' I explain.

'But why did you do that?' he asks.

'Because my life had no meaning left to it. I was sick of who I had become, what I was' I say.

'You mean a homos-' he starts to say, but I cut him off.

'No, I mean a gang boss, someone who ordered for people to be killed like you would order breakfast. Someone who lived simply to not die, and to cause others to die. I still don't like who I am. I still feel like there is a part of the gang boss left in me, and it's scaring the hell out of me because I don't know, if, when, or where it will decide to show up' I say.

'Randy, I still don't forgive you for anything. I'll try, but it's going to be hard. As far as I'm concerned, nothing has changed since before we had this discussion' Mark says.

'Good. Trying to make up with you will give me something challenging to do' I say. He semi-smiles at this.

'With all that being said, I think it's time we let mom and dad back in' I say, walking over to the door.

* * *

A/N: I want to start by saying I didn't mean to give away the information about what happened leading up to Randy coming home, but it just kind of slipped out somehow. Oh well.

So now we know Mark will live, but will Randy be able to stay a free man after the police find out what he did in that restroom? All I'll say is: Be sure to watch out for a few appearances by Jonathan Taylor Thomas in one form or another.

On a final note, I really, honestly did not mean to present Randy as being a pedophile in this chapter when Mark said what he said. It kind of turned out that way, which is why I put in that comment about Randy not being a pedophile. The kind of things I/Mark was talking about was just typical stuff that older brothers do to younger brothers. (Not that I would know this since I don't have a younger brother or sister). So no, Randy is not a pedophile.

Sorry it took me so long to update this story, but as I said earlier today when I updated Nine Months of Hell, it seemed like something was always happening to prevent me from being able to write.

Please R&R, and thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	12. Chapter 11: Er Hast ein Frage

Burned Bridges Chapter 11

"Er Hast ein Frage"

Randy's POV

It's been two days now since my talk with Mark. Mom and dad haven't seemed to notice anything different in Mark's behavior toward me, which is probably because there hasn't been.

Right now we (mom, dad, Brad, obviously Mark, and me) are sitting in Mark's hospital room and for the most part just being quiet. I think I'm the reason for the silence. Whenever I leave to use the restroom (a different one than before obviously) or get a drink of water, et cetera, I can hear the three of them talking when I'm standing outside the door. As soon as I open the door, all the chattering ceases. That's fine. I told him I wanted a challenge.

There's a knock at the door that interrupts the glaring silence. I begin shifting uncomfortably in my chair as dad gets up to answer it. I reseat myself when I see it's only a nurse coming in to take Mark's vitals.

After the nurse leaves, dad asks me to come with him to get a soda. I don't put up a fight for two reasons: One, I'm getting tired of setting, and two, I figure dad wants to do more than get a soda.

'Randy, what's going on with you and Mark?' dad asks when we get to the soda machine.

'The same thing that's been going on for six years' I answer.

'No, there's definitely some kind of tension between you and your brother. Your mom and I both have noticed. Does this have anything to do with that talk you two had a couple days ago?' he asks.

Before I get the chance to lie, someone comes up and taps me on the shoulder. I turn around, and almost drop the soda I'm holding.

'Randy Taylor?' asks Chief Johnson.

'Yeah…' I say hesitantly.

'We need to ask you some more questions about what happened the other day' he says.

'Do we have to do it right now?' I ask.

'Can you think of a better time? Now listen, you can come with us voluntarily, or we can cuff you and haul you down to the precinct' the chief says.

'Okay, I'll go with you' I say, swallowing hard.

'Before you two leave, may I ask what's going on?' dad asks.

'We believe your son has some information about the fire the other day he didn't give us when we spoke with him the other day' Chief Johnson says.

'I'll be fine dad, just go back to the room and let everyone know where I am' I say.

'Randy, I don't want you going down there by yourself. I really think someone should be there with you. Let me go back and tell your mom. We'll think of something. You two can come with us' dad says, addressing the last part to Chief Johnson. We walk back to the room, and dad goes in to explain what's happening. He comes back out, and tells me that he'll go with me.

* * *

Down at the Precinct

Randy's POV

'Mr. Taylor, we have the prints from the blue lighter believed to have started the fire in the restroom the other day back. Judging by the look on your face, it seems to me that you know who those prints belong to. Is there anything you'd like to say or admit to?' a police officer asks in the interrogation room.

'I hate to sound like a broken record, but I think he should get a lawyer in here before talking to you all about anything' dad says.

'I have to advise you, as soon as we call for a lawyer, things start to get serious. Are you sure this is what you want to do?' asks the police officer's partner.

'No' I say.

'Yes' dad says at the same time.

'Dad, I don't think we really need to get a lawyer involved at this point. Just let me say what I know, and I think that maybe some things will get a little clearer' I object.

'Okay. We're all ears' the first officer says.

* * *

A/N: Traurig, jeder muss warten bis nächste Zeit, herauszufinden, was Randy sagen muss.

Übrigens habe ich keine Idee, wie lang es nehmen würde, Fingerabdrückeergebnisse hinter zu erhalten, aber wir werden sagen, dass es zwei Tage für diese Geschichte ist.

Bitte Vorlesung und Nachprüfung, obwohl ich bin sicher niemand dadraußen dies verstehen kann.

Dank für Lesen.

-Ihres wahrheitsgemäß, Randy Taylor


	13. Chapter 12: Innocent Until Proven Guilty

Burned Bridges Chapter 12

"Innocent Until Proven Guilty"

Randy's POV

'To tell you what happened, I have to start with something that happened seven years ago' I warn everyone listening.

'That's fine, we have all afternoon' the male detective, Detective Wick, says.

'It all started after I got back from a school trip from Costa Rica. Something, I'd rather not say what, happened over there that sort of changed both my personality and the way people thought of me. So anyways, about a month and a half after I got back from the trip, this would be mid-July of 1999; I got into a huge argument with my parents over something that happened during the trip.' I glance over at dad, and can tell he's doing his damnedest to try to keep from losing it from having to think about that night.

_Flashback_

'_For the ten thousandth time, I wasn't anywhere near the fucking fire! What will it take to make you two believe me?'_

'_I don't know Randy. I don't know if we can believe you, the way you've been acting ever since you got back from Costa Rica. It's like you're a completely different person.'_

'_What are you going to tell me to do next, get psychiatric help? Well, newsflash, I'm not going to because there's nothing wrong with me.'_

'_Won't you at least consider it? You've just scared your mother and me so much since you've come back, some of the people you've been hanging out with, the things you've been doing or saying, none of it is like the Randy Taylor I know.'_

'_Yeah, well that Randy Taylor is gone forever, so you'll just have to settle for this one.'_

'_Now Randy, we don't want to settle for this one because we know that this isn't the real you.'_

'_Couldn't be further from the truth mom, this _is_ the real me now.'_

'_I don't believe that and I don't think you do either.'_

'_Okay, you know what, you're right, don't settle for this side of me. Fuck it. I'm out of here, and as long as there is a heaven above and a hell below, I'm not coming back, and you can bet your ass on that.'_

'_Tim! Do something! Don't let him go! Randy! Please don't do this! Let's just talk about this…' _The last words I heard my mom say up until I walked into her office a week ago.

_End flashback_

'That's an interesting story, but how does that apply to the fire you set in the bathroom?' Detective Wick asks.

'I'm about to get to that part' I respond.

'See, once I stormed out, I joined a street gang that I knew of from school. I was quickly made leader by the other members.' No doubt because I slit the previous leader's throat, I think but don't say. 'I stayed leader until just the past couple of weeks, when I decided to go home. Now, over the years I made quite a few enemies, as you might have guessed. The main enemy happened to be Shelly Meldrick, aka Zoran. One of her underlings started the fire in my brother's apartment building out here to lure me out here. Once I arrived at the hospital, three of her flunkies cornered me in the restroom, which explains the knives found stabbed in the stall door and walls that you found. I lit three toilet paper rolls on fire to set off the fire alarm so I could get out of the stall alive. That's what happened, and like it or not, it's the truth' I tell everyone who's listening. It is the truth, except a few parts I conveniently left out.

'You said you decided to come home Mr. Taylor. What made you decide to give up the gang life for the comfort of the suburbs?' Detective Wick questions.

'This' I mumble meekly and reach for the bottom of my sweater. I pull it up like an embarrassed child, just far enough for everyone in the room, unfortunately including dad, to see the scar from the steak knife. I hear a gasp from dad, and then the entire room goes glaringly silent for several uncomfortable seconds.

'I did this with a steak knife. It was a suicide attempt. I got sick of that life, and rather than return to the quote/unquote "comfort of the suburbs", I decided it would be easier to simply end my life, and face down whatever the afterlife has in store for me. Not to sound preachy, but apparently God had other plans for me.' I explain.

'You just happened to have a cigarette lighter on you in the bathroom?' Detective Hansen finally brings herself to ask after a few moments. Damn.

'I used to smoke when I was a gang boss. I stopped two years ago' I lie.

'If that's the case, you'll have a five thousand dollar fine to pay, and then you'll be scot free' Detective Wick explains. I look over at dad, who pulls out his wallet, to tap into his stash of emergency traveler's checks, I'm assuming.

'Do you all take traveler's checks?' he asks. I smile on the inside at his predictability.

'We certainly do' Detective Wick says.

This was a close brush; I can't help but think as dad busies himself with the check.

It was also a lot more information than I ever intended on giving away again. Information that I don't think God even remembered existed. At least it wasn't the whole story though. No one's going to hear that. Come hell or high water, no one is going to hear what happened with those three innocent lives that fateful night in Costa Rica.

* * *

A/N: First thing's first, the fine that Randy has to pay for starting the fire, I'm sure that's not standard police procedure, but Randy can't go to jail in this story, so I made up the fine and the amount. I have no idea what the punishment for an arsonist would actually be, and frankly, I never intend to find out.

Anyways, sorry about the long wait. Since I'm on Christmas vacation, I should be able to catch up on all of my stories, so look for more updates to come over the next few days.

Please read and review, I really appreciate it.

Thanks for reading, and thanks for sticking with me throughout all these long breaks in between updates.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	14. Chapter 13: Hell Fire and a Wooden Fence

Burned Bridges Chapter 13

"Hell Fire and a Wood Fence"

A/N: I'm going to skip ahead about a week in this chapter, otherwise I'd have to do something I don't want to do yet. Enjoy.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor

* * *

Randy's POV

Mark has decided to take a leave of absence from college to recover both physically and mentally from the fire. I don't know exactly how well this will work, having both me and Mark under the same roof when he's both terrified of me, and feels a deep intense hatred for me and what I supposedly did.

On the other hand, maybe it's good that this has happened. It could give me the opportunity to try and reconcile with Mark. I'm just not really sure what to do from here. I know Mark said it would be a challenge to get him to forgive me, and he's certainly right. I sure wish Wilson was around to talk to. What would he say in a situation like this?

I lean back in my seat on the plane, close my eyes, and try to picture myself standing at the fence with him.

'_I just don't know what to do, Wilson.'_

'_I'm reminded of something that Jesus said. "If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him; and if he sins against you seven times in the day, and turns to you seven times and says "I repent", you must forgive him."'_

'_But I already tried telling Mark that I screwed up, and it didn't do any real good.'_

'_Mmm hmm'_

'_So you mean maybe I _didn't _actually repent to him. Maybe I need to specifically apologize to him for what he's mad at me about.'_

'_Well, yes.'_

'_Thanks Wilson. You're such a good friend. You still help out even when you're dead!'_

'_I'll see you soon, Randy Taylor. I'll be the first one waiting for you at heaven's gates with a "heidi ho good neighbor"'_

'_Wait, can't you stay?'_

'_No, I'm afraid not. Wake up, and you'll see that your dad needs some assistance from me too.'_

After hearing that, I open my eyes and realize that I had fallen asleep. I do as Wilson told me to, and look over at dad. I see that he's mumbling something that sounds like part of an argument.

Wait a second, that was all just a dream. Wilson couldn't really have appeared to help me. Or could he have? Knowing Wilson, anything is possible.

If he really did appear to me, what does he mean by "I'll see you soon"? Maybe he meant "soon" as in dead people's terms. To them, two thousand years could be soon.

Oh for God's sake, I'm sitting here analyzing a weird dream I had. How ridiculous is that?

I lean back into the seat again, and close my eyes again. Soon I fall asleep again.

I have another dream.

_Fire is everywhere around me. For a few seconds, I think I must be in hell, then look around to realize I'm in some sort of prison cell. Almost the entire room in front of me is ablaze with white hot flames._

_I scream out for help but no one hears. Once, the door opens and a police officer comes in for something. I shout at him to help me, to unlock the cell, throw me the keys, something, but all to no avail. He looks directly at me once, but says nothing, and then leaves the room just as the flames start to spread. Within a couple of minutes, the fire engulfed the entire room outside the cell, and then starts working its way toward me._

_My first thought and natural reaction is to dodge the flames, but that soon becomes next to impossible, and it's then that I realize that I'm going to burn up in the fire. The fire corners me, and I start crying. I start seeing all the events on that night, May 25, 1999, in Costa Rica. Then I wish that I could see mom, dad, Brad, and Mark again. Just to get one last chance to tell them all I love them._

_Love. Speaking of love, I wish I could see Lauren once again. Oh well, I guess that time is near._

_Flames are dancing around my ankles now. My gaudy orange prison suit that all prisoners wear catches fire soon. I start screaming as the flames envelop my body. Before long, I'm in so much pain that I can't even scream anymore. As my skin becomes more charred and the pain increases another level, death becomes my only, and also a welcome thought._

'Randy! Randy, wake up! You were having a bad dream' dad says, gently slapping my face to try to get me to wake up.

'Oh God. Oh God, it was all just a dream' I say, breathing heavily and sweating even though it's a comfortable 66 degrees in the cabin.

* * *

A/N: Please read and review. Reviews are always appreciated.

Thanks for reading.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	15. Chapter 14: Hookers and Lookers

Burned Bridges Chapter 14

"Hookers and Lookers"

Randy's POV

It's been a week and a half since my "dream" I had on the airplane flight home, and in that entire time, I think Mark has spoken maybe 15 words to me, if that. I don't know what to say or do around him. I hate the thought of having to abandon trying to get him to forgive me, but it's starting to look impossible.

I've been thinking about what I'm going to do now. I mean, I can't just sit around mom and dad's house all day long for the rest of my life. I don't even know where to begin. I never really pictured myself doing something like sacking groceries or taking orders at a restaurant for lousy pay. I was going to go to college, be a journalist, and write hard hitting exposés that would be published nationally.

Maybe that's what I could do! I could go down to _The Detroit Free Press_ and apply for an internship. Then again, I don't know.

The doorbell ringing snaps me out of my thoughts. I get off the couch and answer the door.

'Hi Pat' I say when I see him standing at the door. For some reason, it seems awkward to be seeing one of "the gang" now. Despite my earlier feelings, I'm not one hundred percent positive I ever really wanted to see Pat again.

'Randy, I need to talk to you about something' he says. Pat never was one for pleasantries.

'Okay, what about?' I ask.

'No. Not here. Someplace more private. You remember that old boarded up bar on Cherry?' he asks.

'Remember? Yeah, I'm only the one that discovered that place' I answer.

'I didn't know if you remembered or not since your…change. Meet me there at 11:30 tonight. Then we can talk more' he tells me.

'Okay, I'll be there' I say.

* * *

That Night

Randy's POV

Once I hear dad get in bed (about 10:40 or so), I get up from my computer chair and creep upstairs silently. I check to make sure the coast is clear, and when I'm sure that it is, I continue. I put my jacket on and leave, making sure to pull the door closed quietly behind me.

Outside, the temperature isn't too bad for October. The chill of the air is refreshing and invigorating and helps keep me alert during the half hour or so walk to the bar where I'm meeting Pat.

I'm still a couple minutes early when I get there, but I go ahead and sneak in through what used to be the employee entrance. The large piece of cork (like the kind that's used for bulletin boards and such) that covers the entrance is still movable enough for one person at a time to get through.

Once inside, I examine my surroundings and notice that not much has changed over the past two months. Out of habit, I take a seat at what was the lap dance chair when "Hookers and Lookers" was in business.

I lean back against the wall and wait for Pat to show.

As it turns out, that wait isn't very long. A couple minutes later, Pat's slim form slips through the cork and appears behind the bar.

'Hey Chieftain' he greets me, using my old nickname. Yeah, it's a long story how that got to be my gang name.

'So, what's this you wanted to talk to me about?' I ask.

'We' corrects a voice from the behind the bar. I notice then that Wraith, Brett, and Spades are standing behind Pat. It was Wraith that spoke.

'Wow Pat, I didn't know this was going to be a family matter' I say.

'Well it is. Remember, we're the Jarka Ruus. The exiled ones. We look out for each other, remember?' Wraith snaps.

'I-I'm so-I'm sure that-' I stutter.

'Shut up!' yells Wraith. I go silent at his command. He must be the new boss since he's done the largest part of the talking so far.

'You know what Taylor? I could have you hurt? I could just say the word, and you would lay here on this floor and bleed out. But I'm not going to do that. No, I won't do that. At least, not right now. I know what your problem is. You've gone clean. You haven't had your meds. That's why you're not thinking properly. Brett, give me the bag' Wraith commands. Brett pulls a small sandwich bag out of the pocket of his jeans. It's filled, practically to bursting point, with white powder. Before I have a chance to even contemplate escape, Brett, Spades, and Pat all three pounce on me and force me down on the floor.

'Hold still, damn it! Did you forget how good this stuff can be for you? How good that this stuff will make you feel?' Wraith asks as he moves closer to me and kneels down. He takes a pinch of the drugs from the plastic baggy and places the other hand over my mouth. Just when things seem to be getting desperate, a darkly clad figure rushes out from the dark and starts hitting Wraith. It's too late though; I ran out of breath and wound up snorting up the pinch of drugs in the process of taking a breath.

* * *

A/N: First and foremost, I need to say this:

Thank you Baxxie! Without you, I still would be staring at a blank screen and scratching my head, trying to come up with ideas for this chapter.

Anyways, sorry about the long (two month!) wait between updates. It wasn't for lack of trying!

About the whole drug thing in this chapter, I have no idea if any of it is accurate really, since I don't use drugs. Really, the only information I have on drugs comes from Health class in school.

Please read and review, if there's still anyone left out there that's actually reading this.

Thanks for reading and for sticking with me during the long waits.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	16. Chapter 15: Let's Go Home Again

Burned Bridges Chapter 15

"Let's Go Home Again"

Randy's POV

Wraith goes down after the second hit from my mystery rescuer. Spades then enters the battle and tries to pull the person away from Wraith. After several seconds of struggling, the figure breaks free and delivers a swift karate chop to Spades' head. Two down, two to go. I glance over in the direction of where Spades and Wraith are laying. Both out cold. Brett has seen enough and runs through the hole in the cork.

'We aren't finished with you yet Taylor. Not yet' Pat says before making his exit through the cork. I can hear him laughing evilly on his way out.

It's only now that I think to try to get a good look at the mystery person. I'm shocked to see that it's Mark. I guess I should've known from all the karate moves.

'What are you doing here?' I ask him.

'One could ask the same of you' Mark responds.

'It's…nothing. I was just out taking a walk' I lie.

'Nice try. I heard the conversation you had with Pat earlier today. I had a feeling that something was up, so I decided to follow you. It's a good thing I did' Mark says.

'Yeah, about that, thanks for the help. Even though I _did _have everything under control' I say.

'Uh-huh' Mark laughs.

'Come on, we can go home now' I say, echoing what mom told me just a few weeks ago. It seems like it was almost 11 months ago.

We start the forty minute walk home.

'Remember what I told you a little while back about not forgiving you for anything, saying that it was going to be hard for me to do and that you was going to have to work at?' Mark asks.

'Yeah' I say and nod my head.

'Well, as far as I'm concerned, you're forgiven. I've been thinking and I decided that being mad at you forever isn't going to bring back Diane. However, with that being said, you need to tell somebody what's going on here. Those people back there want you dead' he says.

'Mark, you already know what happened. You've heard five thousand times' I say with a deep sigh trailing the sentence.

'Yeah, but that was the cops' theory. I want to hear what really happened in Costa Rica' Mark pushes.

'I'm not…I don't…Okay. Well, you know what night it was. May 25, 1999. It was around 11:00 at night, and everybody was asleep in their tents. Then we hear screams coming from the girls' side of camp. I wake up almost instantly, and look outside the tent. There's an old bridge not too far from the camp sites that leads from our camp to the village where we were working at. The bridge is like one of those from the movies that's made out of wood and rope. Someone, who I later found out was a friend of mine, had set it on fire, as part of an initiation for a gang. As it turns out, Paul and Vinny McGurn put him up to it, even though they had already decided they wouldn't let him join their gang. Anyways, the fire was spreading and getting closer to our campsite by the minute. Now, there was another bridge, an even older bridge that was in worse shape, that was farther downstream, so everybody runs down to that one so we don't get trapped by the fire. All the while, I'm looking and asking around for Lauren, but don't see her anywhere. So while everybody's going across this old bridge, I stay back at the back of the line, waiting for Lauren and her younger sister to show up. Finally, after almost everyone else has gone over the bridge, I see the two of them come running my way. When they get there, we go across the bridge together, with me in the lead. Remember I told you it was an old bridge. A little over half way across, the bridge starts creaking and some of the planks start bowing under the pressure of having had fifty plus people running across it. All three of us pick up the pace and try to get to the other side quicker. Then Paul McGurn steps on to the bridge, and bam! The bridge snaps in half. Lauren, Diane, and myself grab on to the rope and brace ourselves for the impact of the imminent hit against the dirt wall. Somehow, with much luck, we manage to hang on to the bridge. I climb up to the top of the cliff, and then hold my hand down to help Lauren and then Diane up onto the cliff. Then, one side of the rope gives from the strain, and Lauren and Diane both slide down about a half a foot. Fortunately, they shimmy their way back up. I grab a hold of Lauren's hand to help her up. Before I can do anything, somebody, Vinny McGurn, comes up behind me and delivers a swift kick right in the dead center of my back. Then two things happened at once. I collapse onto the ground, gasping for air, and the rope on the bridge snaps, and Diane and Lauren go free falling to their deaths' I say. I'm reluctant at first, but as I tell more and more, it seems to come out easier and easier until it's a relief to get it all off my chest.

'Wow' Mark says after I finish my tale.

'You're the only person alive who knows any of that' I tell him, to emphasize the importance of what I just shared with him.

'I still don't understand why you started running around with gangs though' Mark says after a couple moments of silence.

'I joined the Jarka Ruus to seek revenge on Vinny McGurn. I wanted him dead, and I wouldn't rest until he was. Of course, I'm over all that. I just want to go back to the way things used to be. Or at least go to the way things should be' I explain.

We walk on for another five minutes in silence.

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've acted like such a jerk to you for the past ten years. Now that I know what really happened, it changes everything' Mark says. We walk in silence the rest of the way home, just enjoying each other's company for the first time since 1998.

* * *

A/N: This story's back! Finally!

Okay, so now everybody knows what happened. Stay tuned to find out what's going to happen next.

Please R&R if you're still reading this.

Thanks in advance for doing both.

Oh, and sorry about the huge block of text that was Randy's story. I could've broken it up if I wanted to, but I didn't. :)

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	17. Chapter 16: Appointments and Favors

Burned Bridges Chapter 16

"Appointments and Favors"

Mark's POV

I sleep until nearly nine the morning after rescuing Randy from his troglobite former fellow gang members.

I get out of bed, shower, and go downstairs and see a note.

_Mark, your dad got his hand stuck in the toaster this morning while it was still on. Randy, he, and I are at the emergency room. We'll call when we're on our way home, which probably won't be any sooner than noon. There's some leftover bacon in the fridge._

_Love, mom_

Dad couldn't have picked a better morning to toast an appendage. I forego the bacon and defrost a bagel instead. While it's defrosting, I go back upstairs to my room and dig into the secret compartment of my duffel bag and pull out a long wire and a cassette tape. I go back downstairs, spread some third less fat cream cheese on the bagel, and leave the house, wire, tape, and bagel in tow.

I walk for about three quarters of a mile to the Detroit Metropolitan Police Department Headquarters, stationed just outside of downtown Detroit.

'Hi, I'm here to speak with Lieutenant Moore' I tell the desk sergeant.

'Do you have an appointment?' the gruff looking man asks in a gruff sounding voice.

'I don't have an appointment per se, but she is expecting me sometime today. Tell her it's Mark Taylor' I said, then added the last part when I saw him picking up the telephone receiver. Most of the conversation on this side of the line is inaudible grunts, and then finally a "yes ma'am".

'Lieutenant Moore says to come on up. I'm assuming you know what floor cold case is on and how to get there?' the sergeant, Nick Greeley, asks. I just nod my head, not wanting to take up any more of his valuable time that he could be spending eating double glazed donuts and reading _Car and Driver_.

I find the nearest bank of elevators and press the up button once. Within a matter of milliseconds, one is here. I get inside and press the number 6. I dig the police issued wire and cassette out of my pockets after double checking to make sure I don't have any remnants of cream cheese left on my fingers.

I get off when the doors open and find another desk sergeant eating double glazed donuts, only this one is reading the latest edition of Reader's Digest.

'Could you point me to Lieutenant Moore's office please?' I ask.

'Do you have an appointment?' he asks. Oh for crying out loud!

'Does it really matter? Yes, yes! I have an appointment. Lieutenant Moore is expecting me in her office any minute now' I answer.

'Alright, alright, go on ahead. There's no need to get snippy' he says. I'm already half way across the squad room by the time he finishes.

I knock on Lieutenant Moore's door.

'Come in' she calls. I do so.

'Good morning Mark. Have a seat, please' she says, gesturing to the leather upholstered chair on the other side of her desk. Again, I do as she says.

'Did you get what we're looking for?' Lieutenant Moore presses.

'Yes. It's all here on the cassette tape. I don't think Randy suspected a thing' I tell her, handing over the tape and wire.

'Thank you again Mark. You are doing Detroit a great favor here by giving us the evidence we need to put Vinny McGurn away for a long, long time' she says.

'Yeah. Hopefully I get my brother back in this deal too' I mumble.

'Is there anything else I need to do?' I ask Lieutenant Moore.

'No. We'll most likely be putting a warrant out for his arrest after I've had a chance to review the evidence on the tape. However, I can't make any promises either' she says. I thank her for her time and exit her office and ultimately the Detroit Metropolitan Police Department's Head Quarters.

I then walk back home and glance at the clock when I got in. 10:30. I still have an hour and a half, at least, until everyone's back. I sit down on the couch and flip the TV on.

* * *

A/N: Alright, there's one, _maybe _two chapters left for this story. It depends on how far I can stretch it, and how many ideas I come up with. Don't count anything out yet though.

Please read and review!

Thanks for reading and for sticking with me through everything. (All the long waits between updates, the twists, the turns, the ups, the downs, the shocks, the ho-hum chapters, and the 5 chapter beginning to the story that all took place on one night).

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	18. Chapter 17: Ein Böse Man

Burned Bridges Chapter 17

"Ein Böse Man'

Randy's POV

Things have been going great between Mark and me since last night. At times, it seems like they've been going _too_ well. I mean, we go from saying two words a day to each other, to being best buds. There's just something fishy going on here. Fishy or not, it's making mom happy, so I guess it's worth it.

'Alright, I'm going to bed' Mark announces at 11:00. Mom and dad are at a retirement party for some senior psychiatrist that mom works with. She's mainly there just to get a recommendation from the psychiatrist to take over her job. They said they wouldn't be back until close to one in the morning.

I sit up a while and watch Jay Leno, and then switch over to CBS to watch Craig Ferguson's monologue. After that's over, I turn the TV off, lock up, turn the lights off, and head downstairs to go to bed.

Thirty minutes later, I'm in bed and asleep.

An undeterminable amount of time later, I wake up to someone standing over my bed.

* * *

Third Person POV

'Mark, is that you? Dad?' Randy asks the shadowy figure.

'You. Because of you, I'm a wanted man' the figure replies.

'Vinny McGurn? What the hell are you talking about? I didn't do anything to make you a wanted man, although I would personally like nothing more than to insert the needle into your vein personally' Randy says.

Before he gets a chance to say anything else, he notices the brightly glowing embers behind Vinny McGurn. He jumps up and tries to make a break for it. Vinny McGurn knocks him down and supposedly out. Thinking his work is finished, Vinny goes back upstairs to get out before the fire spreads too badly.

Upstairs, Vinny runs into Mark, who questions him as to where Randy is. When he refuses to answer, Mark delivers a swift karate chop to Vinny's jugular vein, which knocks him out cold. Mark starts to go downstairs and look for Randy, but decides that Randy must be outside and that he shouldn't chance getting stuck in here. After all, he thinks, he's had enough fires as of late. On the way out, he dials 9-1-1 on his cell phone to report the fire.

Some time later, a ragged, tattered, charred nearly beyond recognition figure comes crawling out of the house at 510 Glenview Road.

* * *

A/N: I know it was short, but hey, the epilogue is coming up in a few days. (I haven't decided when as of yet). I think the epilogue will clear up a lot of mysteries and questions everybody has.

The title to this chapter is German for "an evil man". At least, I hope that's what it is. I went to the site where a friend of mine who is German always tells me to go if I need an English to German translation. However, there were about ten definitions for "evil", so I'm not sure if I got the right one or not.

Anyways, in the meantime, please read and review. The reviews aren't necessary, but are much appreciated.

Thanks in advance for doing both.

-Yours truly, Randy Taylor


	19. Epilogue: The End

Burned Bridges Epilogue

"THE END"

The large screen fades to black. Then the credits start rolling. The crowd stands up, grabs their cups that once contained soda, and the enormous tubs that now only contain the kernels and other remains of popcorn that the movie goers decided not to eat. They stumble down the rows of seats and out of the movie theater. The lines to get out of this particular theater in the cinema is long, and the ones for the bathrooms are even longer. It was a packed house for the first ever showing of "Burned Bridges", the brand new Home Improvement movie.

In time, the movie would go on to surpass even such great movies as Titanic in the amount of money it grossed. It kept all the stars and producers and crew members of Home Improvement very rich, for a very long time.

THE END

* * *

A/N: Wow, imagine that, a surprise ending from me. Who would've thought?

I started writing this story one year ago today. My life was **a lot** different back then than it is now. Back then, Burned Bridges and Crash were the new kids on the block on so to speak.

Anyways, the thank yous:

Thank you to the readers, who have taken their time to read and review my mindless drivel.

Thank you to Baxxie and Colin Creevey for helping me write the mindless drivel.

Thank you to randyiscool for getting me motivated to start writing this story again. (No, I could never seriously call one of my stories mindless drivel. For me, it's almost like having children. I'm sure even Jeffrey Dahmer's mother still saw him as being the good little boy I'm sure he once was. Maybe not though. I don't know. Anyways, this is all 100 percent off topic of what I'm trying to write here).

Please review if you liked this chapter.

Thanks again!

-Yours truly for the final time here, Randy Taylor


End file.
